


First Watch

by lalejandra



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Bedtime Stories, Multi, Team Bonding, Team as Family, Transformative Works Welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-05
Updated: 2006-02-05
Packaged: 2019-07-17 14:13:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16097291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalejandra/pseuds/lalejandra
Summary: Ronon and Teyla know the same bedtime story.SK asked me to tell her a story, something sappy.  Only for my friends do I ever do things like this.





	First Watch

When Ronon was a young boy, his mother told him stories that all started with, "In the time of the Ancestors..." Ronon can hardly remember the stories now -- he spent so many years trying to forget, it seems strange to _try_ to remember.

Sitting around a fire on Chalaat, Ronon gnaws on a bone of one of the rabbits and murmurs, "In the time of the Ancestors, there lived a small boy, not unlike yourself..." But he can't remember the boy's name. He falls silent, and then realizes everyone is looking at him. "What?" he demands.

"Not unlike yourself," repeats Teyla. "His name was Yershua, and he was the son of a toymaker."

Ronon raises an eyebrow. Teyla smiles at him and continues: "Yershua was no one important. He wasn't very special. He was like all other boys who are around your age." McKay snorts, but Sheppard is already stretching out lazily, his back against a stack of their packs.

"But one day the Queen's men came," says Ronon, suddenly remembering. "And they said to Yershua's mother, 'We need your son, for he is to fulfill the prophecy of the Ages.' Yershua's mother cried and cried, but --"

"But the soldiers would not be moved. Yershua packed up his prized possessions -- a doll his father made him, his carving knives, a piece of wood he'd found -- and went with the soldiers. They traveled through the kingdom by foot, and as they walked through Yershua's village, old women he'd known his whole life covered their faces, and old men he'd learned from his whole life gave him pieces of dry bread, small fruits that he tucked into his pockets, and square coins."

"We had round coins." Ronon looks down at his fingers. He had cut one of them earlier, cutting twigs for the fire, and it is a little purple now, dried blood blackish.

"Your people are -- were --" and Teyla pauses for a moment, which Ronon appreciates. "--Your people were more advanced than mine."

"It's not hard to make a round coin." Ronon reaches, but Teyla's hand on his arm stills him.

"Ronon," she says. Her hand is cool on his skin. "When Yershua reached the palace of the Queen, he suddenly felt very scared. What if he wasn't the right boy after all? He was only the son of a toymaker. His mother baked bread, even that only sometimes. Once he didn't have shoes that fit for an entire season because his mother couldn't wake up in the mornings and bake the bread. And what kind of prophecy would it be? Would it be scary? Surely someone braver than he would be a better pick."

"Surely someone surer of foot," murmurs Ronon. Teyla's hand doesn't move off his arm, and she sits closer to him. It's not cold -- they only built the fire to roast the meat and vegetables anyway. He doesn't mind, though.

Her voice is sweeter closer to his ear.

"Someone purer of heart." Teyla's voice is strong; even McKay has finally stopped typing and is listening to the story.

Ronon remembers how this ends now, and he wishes he'd picked a different story. He knows why this is the story in his mind, but --

"At the palace," continues Teyla, "Yershua is fed delicious treats made of sweetness and air spun together. It all tastes like ash in his mouth, though. He reaches into his pockets for his dry bread -- and it is like cake to his tongue."

"Finally the Queen comes to see him, and says, 'Why do you not sit on the comfortable chairs I provided you?' And Yershua says, 'Because I prefer the floor.' And the Queen asks, 'Why do you not eat the delicious food I have served you?' And Yershua says, 'Because I prefer my bread.' And the Queen asks, 'You? You are the greatest warrior in the land?' Yershua tightens his hand on his doll and says --"

"'I am no warrior, I am only a boy.'" Ronon's voice melds with Teyla's, and for a moment he would have sworn he was back on Sateda.

But despite Teyla's skill at storytelling, neither of them are the history-keepers, and it is painfully obvious.

Teyla's hand slips down to hold Ronon's tightly as they finish the story. "The Queen laughs at Yershua." Teyla pauses, and Ronon wonders if the change in her breathing means she's crying. "'They always say that!' she cries. 'I am always told the greatest warrior is the most innocent child. Well, child, if you are no warrior, then you will not fight.' And the Queen places her hand on Yershua's chest, and Yershua feels all of the years he has never lived slipping away into the Queen's hand."

"Finally he is dry like the husk of corn, and he falls to the floor."

Ronon looks down to where his hand is twined tightly with Teyla's.

"That's some bedtime story," says Sheppard from across the fire.

Ronon looks up. McKay frowns at him. "If that's what you barbarians teach your children, it's no wonder you were all --"

McKay stops talking abruptly, and Ronon realizes it's because Sheppard's hand is squeezing his knee. Because Sheppard is worried about Ronon's feelings.

That is very sweet, thinks Ronon, a bit dazedly. When before he had felt so alone, had been thinking of his youth because it was the only time he'd ever felt -- felt something, felt loved, maybe, or not so used up, at least -- now he feels anything but alone.

He feels surrounded.

"They are learning fables," Teyla is saying primly, when Ronon comes back to himself. "They are to teach children not to trust those who would do them harm."

"Like the government?" McKay raises his eyebrows.

"The government is only looking out for itself, always," says Ronon, and is ashamed when it comes out as a snarl, and Teyla's hand has to squeeze his to remind him. McKay knows nothing of life in this galaxy, her hand tells him. We must be gentler with people ignorant of the way we work, the same way they are gentle with us. Ronon can tell all that from her hand, but can't ever tell what she's thinking from her eyes.

Sheppard's eyes give him away every time, though -- blazing with something now. Anger, Ronon thinks, anger and sadness.

Ronon is sad too.

He wishes he could remember a happier story.

"Tell me another one," requests Sheppard, as though he can read Ronon's mind.

"Ah, maybe one with a happy ending?" suggests McKay.  
"I know exactly which one to choose," says Teyla, and tells a story about a young Athosian girl who wandered through the gate one day to a planet that looked abandoned -- but there was food for her, and beds to choose from. When she woke up, she was surprised, for it was a Wraith homeworld! She tricked them, ran away, and won the day.

Ronon doesn't know this story, but can't listen, because the entire time Teyla is telling it, she holds on to his hand -- and Sheppard holds his eyes across the fire.

**

Sheppard takes first watch. Sheppard always takes first watch. Ronon always lets him, because there's no point in arguing with the taskmaster. Or, in this case, the team leader. This night, though, Ronon stays outside while Teyla and McKay go into the small tents they've pitched. McKay calls them "pup tents" -- that makes sense to Ronon. Small as pups.

Ronon hates them, but he'll never tell anyone that. Now that he's free to sleep under the stars, he'd like to -- even though he knows what's out there waiting for him.

Sheppard voices almost his exact thought:  
"They're real pretty, huh?" he says. He's resting against a tree, his knees pulled up, hands wrapped around his ankles.

"Yes," says Ronon.

"So's Teyla," says Sheppard.

"You don't have to pretend," says Ronon. "I watched you tonight."

"Meaning?" Sheppard raises an eyebrow at him. Ronon raises an eyebrow back.

"I don't know how it works where you're from. What the rules are."

"That's never stopped you before."

Ronon isn't sure if that's an invitation or not -- he wasn't joking. He doesn't understand the rules. Sometimes women come up to him, but he doesn't know what they want. Someone just to spend the night in their bed, holding them? Sex? Procreation? It's all different with the Earthers. Lantians. Whatever they are. Their world is crazy, full of talking picture boxes and fights between the military and the government.

Sateda seems so simple when Ronon thinks back to it.

It's hard for him to remember what this used to be like -- all he can remember now are the times when he had the coin to pay for it on strange worlds that all smelled of piss.

Sheppard smells mostly of earth. Dirt. Ronon smells the same. there's a smell Ronon associates with the Lanteans, too -- the smell of plastics and metals and things being soldered.

They had that on Sateda.

Ronon wonders if this is some kind of delayed reaction to losing everything.

"You're taking a long time to decide." Sheppard's voice is gravelly.

It's so dark out that Ronon can hardly make out his image now -- the fire is almost gone. Ronon finally decides. He lays down on his belly and shimmies forward until his head is between Sheppard's thighs. The pants Sheppard wears are remarkably easy to undo. The inhalation through Sheppard's nose, sharply, is all that tells Ronon he's on the right path. Sheppard's cock isn't hard, but it starts to harden once it's in Ronon's hand, once Ronon is breathing on it.

It smells of salt and sweat, and holy Ancestors, Ronon missed this. Touching, being touched.

He pushes away the thought that he'd appreciate Teyla or McKay just as much, or anyone else, for that matter -- and he focuses just on Sheppard. Sheppard's cock leans to the right, only a little, and curls in on itself, only a little, and tastes weirdly _clean_ , just exactly the way it, and Sheppard, smell.

Ronon takes Sheppard into his mouth little by little, pulling up and off, but never letting the cock out of his mouth entirely. Sheppard's legs stay pulled up, around Ronon's ears, blocking out the world. Ronon can't hear anything, can't see anything -- it's so dark -- can only touch and taste and lick and suck.

Sheppard whispers his name, and in the split second it takes Ronon to realize this is his warning that Sheppard is about to take his satisfaction, Sheppard is coming down his throat. And Ronon doesn't care.

Sheppard doesn't have any space diseases, and he's missed this -- and then Sheppard puts his hand into Ronon's hair and rubs a little, rubs around Ronon's eyebrow and eye, down to his neck and ear, and Ronon keeps sucking, his throat sore, only getting a little of the air he needs but --

He needs this touch more.

When he finally feels finished, he pulls off Sheppard and takes a deep breath.

Sheppard grins at him.

"It is my turn now," says a voice behind him, and it's Teyla, who deftly unlaces his pants, and sucks his cock while he leans against Sheppard. Sheppard, who wraps one arm around Ronon's chest, and keeps the other on his gun, all the while licking and sucking Ronon's skin.

Teyla's mouth is bigger than it looks, and it is not long before Ronon comes. Teyla kisses him, then presses her forehead to Sheppard's.

"I told you," she murmurs.

"You were right," says Sheppard, and Ronon feels Sheppard's chest muscles tense as he pushes his forehead back against Teyla's.

"Now I go to sleep," she says. "I will see you both in the morning. And if you do not awaken on time, I will poke fun at you both."

Ronon tries to twist as Teyla leaves, to look at Sheppard, but Sheppard holds him in place -- and while Ronon knows he could easily break Sheppard's hold, he chooses not to. He instead relaxes back against Sheppard's chest, and allows Sheppard to keep watch the entire night.

  



End file.
